


Definition of Hearts

by roguefaerie (samidha)



Series: Reconcilliation (Reaper Jessica Moore) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, And Fades Into Obscurity, But I did all the stuff he suggested, CPTSD, CPTSD Recovery, Canonical Character Death, Chronic Pain, Continuing my recent Sam Winchester-palooza, Dean Develops Powers Slowly, Dean Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dean Has Powers, Dean Knows the Meaning of Clue Bat, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester Use Their Words, Death, Dialogue Heavy, Emotionally Hurt Sam, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Estrangement, Extended Death themes, For real this is reaper fic, Ghost Jessica Moore, Grief/Mourning, Grim Reapers, Halloween if You Must, Headaches & Migraines, Heartache, Hit With A Clue-By-Four, Home, Homecoming, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, I suck at pacing, Implied Relationships, John Winchester Continues to Live Uncomfortably In Irrelevance, Mediums, Mind Meld, My Crush on Jessica Moore Okay?, My Friends Squint, Now Sam is in Charge, Old Wounds, Other, POV Sam Winchester, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Powers as Burden, Powers as Disability, Protective Sam Winchester, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Reaper Jessica Moore, Reapers, Returning Home, Riding in Ships With Ghosts, Sam Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sam Has Powers, Sam Has Some Normative Moments, Sam helps dean, Sam is Home, Sam is a Sweetheart, Samhain, Samhain 2017, Season/Series 01, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Tags May Change, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, That's Okay We Love Sam, The Author is Celebrating Samhain, There's Some Other Shippy Bits If You Squint, Things Not Being Black and White, This Universe Is Giving Me an Emotional Hangover, This happened with Monster let's trust in Sam here he knows what he's doing, Wake-up call, Well I HAD a plan..., Work In Progress, You Have Been Warned, happy new year, slow development
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-31 18:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 9,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12138486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/roguefaerie
Summary: "You know, in almost two years I haven't asked you for a thing."AND/OR:an exact statement or description of the nature, scope, or meaning of something."our definition of what constitutes..."the action or process of defining something.2.the degree of distinctness in outline of an object, image, or sound, especially of an image in a photograph or on a screen.Sam and Dean are tired of the way things may lack definition.





	1. Part I.

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't need another WIP but y'all keep me motivated and Sam refuses to write other things than this right now. Sam really thinks he's in charge lately. He may be right. 
> 
> I really do finish most of what I start and I have a plan for this (mostly), so we should be good.
> 
> Me, moving things around on the timeline. Yep.
> 
> ETA: Oh dear God it's a 'verse because this changes everything. ...Thanks, Sam. No, seriously, we love you, Sam... This is fine. ;)  
> Okay, all, Sam has a plan, I'm going with his plan. This is how I wrote Monster and it came out okay. Who am I kidding, I always knew this was the plan, I just thought it might be avoidable. Haha. Going with Sam's plan!
> 
> ETA 2: This fic is dedicated to J., B., and D. who all in their own way gave me pieces of it (and are likely to continue to influence the writing of it.)
> 
> Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/121274586/playlist/2RnGkJ9Jwa78Ys84Wcf9OV

“You know, in almost two years I haven’t asked you for a thing.”

No.

No.

He knows he’s going to go with Dean and he hates it. He hates the idea of time away from Jess, not right now, not this last weekend before his big day to prep for law school. He made it out and he wants to see Jess with her hair like fire spread across the pillow and--

But he’s going to go with Dean, he knows he is.

“I can’t do this alone,” Dean is saying, and he automatically replies “Yes you can,” even though he can see Dean’s eyes are wild with something, something bad.

“No, I _can’t_ , Sammy, I…”

That makes him pause, just for the tiniest of moments. “Okay. Why?”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, managing it on slightly bent legs, the product of, well, John Winchester, really, for whatever that’s worth.

“Sammy, do you remember your headaches?”

He laughs. “Yeah,” he says drily. 

“Awful,” Dean says. “You were so little and we had to keep you in so many meds for them.”

“Yeah. I remember, Dean,” he says, suddenly drained.

“I have a headache like that now,” Dean says. “Sammy. Please.”

*~*~*

He gets in the car because he doesn’t want Dean driving (at all) like that alone. He sighs. “Dammit, Dean. You know I can’t really do this.”

“Sammy, I know.”

“It’s not-- I want you to be okay. I just-- It’s Jess.”

“Fire,” Dean mumbles low.

 

“What?”

“Nothing, Sam. Jesus, Sammy, what do I do?”

“You have to lie down. Come on.”

“I need ice or something.”

“I know.”

*~*~*

They find the nearest place to buy ice and Dean stops driving, throws up in some bushes and scrambles into the back of the car. “Sammy, I’m sorry,” he’s saying, but it’s muffled because Sam’s wrapped him in blankets “I didn’t want-- to-- I didn’t want to come.”

And that hurts. It wounds, a thorn going deep into Sam’s heart and he doesn’t let any of it come out in his voice. “I know,” he says. “It was supposed to be forever.”

Dean doesn’t say anything. After a minute or so Sam looks him over, suddenly worried he’s passed out, but he hasn’t. He just doesn’t have anything to say. To him.

Okay. Sure. Great.

He will continue saving Dean’s life or whatever’s going on here.

“Hurts, Sam,” Dean says thickly. “We’re cursed.”

He laughs again. “I know.”

“C’mere. Please.”

His heart is thudding and he shouldn’t, he should stay angry ( _oh god oh god okay fine dean_ ). Thud. ( _dean_ ) Thud. ( _dean_ )

“Okay, Sam, I know you’re--”

He scrambles after Dean and lays his whole body on top of his brother. “Okay, Dean, I gotcha now,” he says, his voice thick and choked. “I’m home.”

“ _Sam_.”

The pain in Sam’s chest is immeasurable. Like reopening a door that’s been shut so long _so long_ and the world tips and blurs a little like maybe he’s falling off the seat of the car but then it rights itself again and he’ll just try to forget--try to forget everything.

“Sammy, I think I’m really sick.”

He holds in a sigh and lets it burrow deeper in his chest.

“Dean.”

“Ugh.”

“What else is happening?”

“What?”

“What else is happening?”

“Colors. Can’t turn off the colors.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know, I watch the pilot *a lot*. It's just easiest to fall asleep by starting something at the beginning, so I've started the series over a bunch of times at night. Anyway, I feel like I only vaguely remember this, but there's a deleted scene in the pilot where it's implied Dean's psychic af. I'm just saying. There is a reason Dean turned around, and I've been playing with "Dean Has Powers" since 2008. I don't plan to stop. Especially this time since he is about to learn some things (says Sam).
> 
> Updates may be not the fastest I've ever done, because I really don't want to screw this up for them.
> 
> \--  
> I had to put the characters in charge of this bunny and it's already gone sideways a bit but they know what they're doing. Heh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sure exactly how this is coming out. There was an earlier draft where these events were all harder to come by, but honestly, this 'verse is making my heart explode and I just want them to love each other. For the record, in this 'verse, Sam _does not_ ship it, which I have to admit surprised me. So, safe for gen readers, just a whoooooole lotta gen brotherly love with heartache here. The Emotional Hangover 'Verse. Damn.

They end up in a motel a little closer to where Dean says that Dad is. Dean bends over the toilet and doesn’t move except to heave up everything in his stomach and then bile and then nothing. When it’s finally over, he cradles Dean as they cross the room slowly to the bed and then he practically lifts his brother into the bed. “Okay. We’re on the way to Dad. But you have to rest.”

He doesn’t really _want_ to be this sympathetic to his brother, but he is, old instincts kicking in hard, memories of times they started to throw up because there was nothing to eat and nothing to do about it.

He should be angry but he can’t stay angry.

His chest just hurts. His heart hurts, too, and they’re separate pains, one almost an echo of the other.

“Sammy,” Dean calls in a murmur and then groans, turning over on his side. “Things...things are coming… Really bad.”

“Okay, Dean. We’ll deal with them.”

Dean blinks. “We will?”

“I…”

“Sammy?”

“Dean, I…”

Dean flops back on his back and looks up at him.

“Yeah?”

“I never knew...if you…”

They watch each other quietly now, neither saying anything.

They are both pretty certain what is about to happen, though, both of them waiting for it.

He feels the moment when Dean _reaches_ and the thing that has always caused his headaches connects with Dean’s.

“ _Sammy_ ,” Dean says, a little breathless. “Always.”

That’s when everything inside of him starts to quiver a little and he crosses the room to Dean.

All he wants is for Dean’s answer to be true. All he wants is to be home again.

But you’re never the same twice, and a bitter, rancid fear rises up and clogs his throat.

He won’t--he can’t--say anything. Not yet. So he just stands beside the bed, his face a wreck.

He knows his brother is tough and hard but he wills his brother to understand this, his deepest, darkest fear.

“Always, Sammy.”

He’s not sure what to believe, but it’s the answer his heart needs right now.

“I’m sorry, Dean, you’re sick and I--”

Dean smiles a little. “You tried to be angry, you tried to help--god, you’re trying, I feel your heart racing, Sammy. But in the end it just hurts.” Dean’s voice drops to a whisper. “I know.”

“I wanted to be angry for longer--how do you--”

Dean grimaces, “It’s the shiny. It won’t stop.”

“If you want me here….”

“I always have and I always will, Sammy.”

“No secrets anymore.”

“Not if our brains have their way. Hey, Sammy, c’mere. Jesus, you haven’t even gotten a hug.”

“Chick flick moment?”

“More like a moment to Ease the Crushing Weight of the Abyss. C’mere, Sasquatch.”

“Dean, it hurts so much.”

“I know. Me too.”

And when he finally accepts the hug, he crumples into it and starts to shake hard enough he knows Dean can feel it.

*~*~*

Some time later:

“Dad’s not in Jericho, Sam. But his journal is.”

He smiles a tired smile, a little unsurprised. “Okay, Dean. Don’t let go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's easy to write powers/psychic "boys" when you know the whole canon.... ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Note: PTSD symptoms  
> Prompt: That's what people do who love you. They put their arms around you and love you when you're not so lovable. (Deb Caletti)

He realizes, as they both drift in and out of sleep, that Dean is holding on to him for dear life. And it brings to mind so many other times like this, when there was so little to eat or to do that they had only this, only gentle touch to get them through the hunger and the waiting.

He had felt stifled, but now, going four years without this, it was another taste of home.

“Dean?”

“Mm.”

“How’s your head?”

“Mm.”

“Dean?”

“Missed you, Sammy.”

He can still feel the closeness, the mental closeness that had come as he had walked Dean slowly through some of what he knew how to do. How Dean had reached for him in the middle of the headache and--known what to say.

“Dean, I….”

Something made him do it, pushing the memories outward of his failures at school--feeling shabby, feeling out of place, until he had met Jessica. How one Halloween at the beginning he had even looked for and found a hunt, but he hadn’t been able to put all the pieces together on his own, he hadn’t been able to do it all as a one man show.

His heart aches and he braces himself, waiting for Dean to tell him what a failure he’s been to him, turning to law because he’s never been the hunter Dean wanted him to be.

It’s not about their father now and maybe never was. It is about the other thing, the thing that never leaves him, the hypervigilance and the idea that he--the freak--wouldn’t be wanted where Dean--the hunter--lived.

All the rest was good old fashioned teenage rebellion that most kids would have gone through, that he forced himself through as an act of self-preserverence. But the truth is...the truth is it all comes down to this.

This moment. 

This sudden boon.

He pushes the memories out, internally cursing his weakness but hoping, hoping.

 _Please, Dean_.

“Sammy.” Dean rolls over and catches Sam’s wrist for a moment. Grounding. Then he lets go and enfolds him.

“I know. Sammy. Sammy. I know. I’m not letting go. I never did and I never will.”

“You keep sayin’ that, Dean. But my heart hurts.”

“I know. Mine too. I wasn’t kiddin’. And I’m not kiddin’ now either.”

“When will it stop?” he asks Dean.

“I don’t know. But I’ll be here. And all that hunting stuff? Sam, you were a genius to put all that together.” Dean sighs. “Not everybody gets saved.”

“I wasn’t goin’ to tell anyone,” he murmurs low, embarrassed.

“I know. But I’m here now. And I won’t let go.”

His heartbeats slow in time to match Dean’s. He can feel each one now, and on every beat there is only his brother’s name, and every little bit of home.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam shivers in the dark and pulls Dean closer to him. 

“Dean?”

Dean looks far away, like he’s watching Sam but actually watching something behind and around his brother.

“Dean, are you okay?”

“The colors, Sam. They tell you everything. They tell you so much. Do you have the colors?”

“I don’t know, maybe sometimes. How’s your head?”

Dean groans. “I never wanna move again. Can that be a thing? From now on?”

Sam huffs out a quiet laugh. “Dean.”

“Sammy, I never knew it was like this. How did you--”

“Just stayed out of Dad’s way. Hey. Tell me how your stomach is. And your head.”

“You’re gonna have to get used to driving.”

He nods. “I thought so.”

“We should get moving though.”

“To pick up Dad’s journal?” he asks. “Hey, Dean, if that’s all it is, I mean…”

“You’ve got your interview.”

The rush of emotion he feels could knock him clean off the bed. It’s coming from Dean.

“I… I have… a lot of things here, Dean.”

“You just wanted to know… And then you were going to….”

“No, Dean. We’ll deal with all of it. No. Dean. Come on, Dean.”

The truth was, it wasn’t like he had a plan for Dean showing up, even though something told him this Halloween was different, and so was this November 2.

“I...shouldn’t have...you don’t want… I told you, Sam, I didn’t want to come….”

He feels like his insides are being slowly scraped out with a grapefruit spoon. “Dean. Please. Stop.”

“What?” A rush of cold aims right for Sam. 

“Please don’t do this. Dean, I’m feeling everything. Stop. Please.”

Dean blinks. “What?” Not cold and angry this time, incredulous.

“You...and I....the shiny...I have it too, Dean, and you grabbed mine.”

“I did?”

Sam scrubs a hand down his face. “Yes. You did. So. Hold on a second, Dean. Please. Please don’t be mad. I just, I have a life here now. And I want you in my life. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, you and me without… without him trying to get between us. That’s all. If that was all I ever had...I could….” _I could die a happy man._. 

Dean blinks, and smiles a little bit of a cocky smile. Maybe he heard it, maybe he didn’t, whatever, Sam can’t keep track of the inside of Dean right now.

“But Dean, that isn’t all there is. I have Jess. I have a shot at law school. I….”

“Law school? You really want law school?”

He can see Dean’s point. Here...this is. Whatever this is.

He sighs. “Well, it’s not til Monday, Dean. I’m here and I’ve got you.”

Relief. Relief so strong it leaks all the way out of Dean and into him. Dean deflates with the force of the push.

“Okay, Dean.”

“Please, Sam,” Dean whispers. “Don’t leave. Not now. Not for law school. I mean...law school? I… I put on a good face, Sammy, but this is scary.”

“I know, Dean.”

Dean is still whispering. “You always felt like a…”

“Like a freak.”

“And I never knew what to say.”

“No, you didn’t. Not about this.”

“Does it ever go away?”

“Ebbs and flows. Are you gonna hurl?”

Dean cracks a half smile, the one he saves for when he’s impressed with his brother’s reasoning powers. “I don’t know. But I’m scared, Sam. How do you...manage it?”

“You just do. You do or you die, or something.”

“You just do,” Dean says, and his voice is quiet and thoughtful.

“Yeah.”

“Well you’ve done a damn good job, Sam.” The pride in Dean's voice is real, and for that moment he is Sam, not Sammy, and it means something.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, he slips out of the motel room when he can tell Dean is dead to the world. He brings back pitch black coffee with the milk and the sugar on the side. He puts it all on a little corner table that’s in this motel room and then he wakes Dean up.

“Hey. How are the colors doing?”

“Ugh, not as bad as in the dark.”

“I brought black coffee.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Anything else you need?”

“That question is perilously open-ended.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Don’t I know it.”

“So, Sam, you coming this morning?”

“I’m coming. You’re not necessarily safe to drive.”

“Law school?”

He grimaces. _That was the plan before you let me come home._ That’s not all he thinks, but he can’t stop thinking at least that much. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have to. “Let’s just get going, Dean.”

“If you say so, Sasquatch.” There’s still strain on Dean’s face, but he smiles around it and then it all but disappears. Only somebody else who’s dealt with that level of pain and worse would be able to know what Dean’s hiding under his smile.

*~*~*

Dean flops into the passenger seat.

“So I don’t get why Dad would leave us his journal,” Sam says as he gets behind the wheel. “Hey. Hey, Dean. Shotgun picks the music?”

“Turn it off if I ask?”

“I will.”

“Metallica.”

“You got it.”

It’s clear Dean doesn’t feel well at all.

*~*~*

There’s a silence Sam hasn’t really experienced before, not like this. Sure, Dean’s been lost for words before, but…

He feels the little push that means Dean’s rooting around a little bit behind his eyes. And he should want to fight it, but what would be the point. If Dean needs to find some kind of coping mechanism….

Other than slow the car down, he doesn’t do anything much. He should fight it, but he doesn’t. Feeling this, he already knows what it is, and knowing what it is it brings a certain sense of relief.

He’s not alone with this anymore.

He’s not _the_ freak, not anymore.

It’s a little bit intoxicating. Even though he knows there’s something about it that would freak anyone else out.

It’s not like it’s coming from their dad, or a stranger. It’s got the distinct flavor of Dean, even a little bit of his scent on it.

_Dean. I feel that._

Dean blinks and sits up a little straighter, clears his throat. “Uh.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam says. 

Maybe it’s so okay, it’s something Sam’s been waiting for his whole life.

Just for Dean to understand him. If this is what it takes, then this is what it takes.

“I’m not afraid of you, Dean,” he says. “Of this.”

But that doesn’t mean Dean isn’t afraid.

“Stop the car, Sammy.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dean is breathing hard. “This thing….I can’t stop it.”

“No.”

“I feel sick. All the time. Will I always feel sick all the time?”

“What kind of sick? Probably not _all_ the time, but…” He sighs. “Okay, Dean, so it’s kind of like… There’s you, and you’re normal Dean…” He pauses for effect and waits.

“Right….”

“But there’s this process running in the background.”

“Right. But Sammy, it won’t go in the background.”

“It will. Eventually.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

“In the meantime….we take care of you. But Dean…”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something really, really...bugging me about this. Like, why now?”

“Sammy, I’m sorry. It’s...” Dread floods out of Dean. He’s only picking up the _big_ stuff so far, but he knows more will come with time. Maybe Dean made a mistake, reaching for him, but maybe it’s perfect this way.

Maybe it’s perfect this way.

But Dean is full of dread. Of shame.

“Dean. No. That’s not what I mean.” He has more to say but instead he tries sending something back again: warmth. “It’s not you. It was never you. I was just a kid, Dean, that was all. Breathe, Dean.”

Dean does, and he relaxes.

“Dean, it’s just...it’s Halloween weekend. We...we have to think like them.”

“November 2…” Dean says in a whisper.

“November 2.”

“We have to turn the car around, Sammy. We have to. Jessica… Something’s about to go wrong.”

“This is our lives,” Sam says, as he does turn back for home. “Of course something’s about to go wrong.”


	7. Chapter 7

They get back to the apartment fast, driving at a breakneck speed.

But it’s not fast enough.

The street is blocked off and Sam stops the car and he and Dean _run_.

The actual building is smoldering rubble. Dark black and charred and nothing left. 

“That’s my apartment!” Sam screams. “Let me through!”

Dean is behind him and that’s where the blast of hot air comes from and it even pushes at Sam a little but mostly the cops and firefighters (fuck fuck firefighters it’s a fire of course it’s a fire) move instinctively back.

 _Run, Sam._ Dean’s voice.

But there’s nothing to run to. There’s nothing left.

“Jessica Moore!” Sam screams. “Where is she?”

That’s before he sees the ambulance with its lights off.

_No._

All of the cops are just watching him, dazed. It’s almost like he can’t penetrate and make them listen to him.

It’s almost like he’s disappeared.

 _Sam. I’m here._ Still Dean’s voice, right in the back of his head where it’s really supposed to be.

Sam bangs on the ambulance window. But it doesn’t do any good.

He’s not next of kin.

So this is the way it’s going to be. The way it’s going to end. 

It always ends in fire, after all.

*~*~*

He feels a buzz of static electricity to his left. _Sam._

He’d know that voice, quiet but determined, in his head, anywhere.

Jess.

She’s standing, flickering the tiniest bit, to the side of the ambulance.

 _I’m here, babe_ , she says. _Family doesn’t end in death_.


	8. Chapter 8

He does a double-take. Then he looks briefly to Dean. Does Dean see her too?

He knows immediately, of course, that she’s a ghost--in all these years of hunting he doesn’t forget the look of that for a second.

And it doesn’t hit him right away, even though he knows.

He knows what it means. 

But his mind has to go into hunter mode. It’s automatic.

Years later, maybe he’ll think about how all of this was strategic on the part of some cosmic force.

Right now he’s working the case.

Just like that.

Even with Jess right there. Especially with Jess right there.

Also he feels numb, which might be good considering that with Dean here up until way-too-little-time ago his heart was leaking out all over the floor.

They’ll figure this out. They’ll figure this out and then--

It hits him when Dean raises a hand to his forehead without looking away that of _course_ Dean sees Jess.

So then he has to figure out very very quickly who else does.

And then they have to get out of there.

Dean puts an arm out for him, almost in position to block light, but not quite, and he instinctively grabs it, which makes him realize how unsteady he is on his feet.

Shit.

This is--

 _Boys._ Jess says, but it's all still internal, it’s mental and telepathic somehow, and Sam thinks wildly for a second of how screwed it all is when his emotions randomly turn on again and he feels--like really--really--feels that.

He also feels that Jess has somehow aged or become ageless beyond whoever she was on the night of tequila shots with Luis. 

It’s a little overwhelming, honestly.

He won’t be able to think much about it for a little while. He can't stop right now. People are starting to gather, and where people are there will soon be people who knew Jess and Sam, and Jess-and-Sam.

_Boys, come on_ , Jess says. 

Her voice is still soft and melodious--actually it’s more melodious than anything Sam can remember--it’s--it’s--

_Jess._

The essence of Jess.

Something he’s not sure he’s known before. Not like this.

 _Angry spirits are born out of violent death_ , he starts running himself through the mental drill as he looks at the scene around him as quickly as he can without moving much at all. He has to-- He has to.

The building is in ruins, it’s in ashes, and that means one of two things-- 

Jess doesn’t have time for him to finish that thought.

 _I’m not angry, Sam_.

A new heartache joins the one he’s been feeling since Dean arrived, and his eyes-- dammit, his eyes--

 _I’m going to get in the car_ , Jess says softly, and her thoughts float toward him as if on a grey mist. _You boys take your time_ , she says, though he knows she means it with as much gentleness as she can muster.

And then she does what she said she was going to do--without opening the door.

No one is paying them attention, but this is all too surreal for a second, 

It’s too much.

And if Sam stops to think about it he’s going to crack. ( _That would actually be good_ ), part of him reminds him, but it’s a tiny, quiet part and there’s a sea of white noise between it and Sam.

Not yet, at any rate. He can’t crack yet.

He edges closer to Dean. “Dean,” he says under his breath, “Jessica just got in the car.”

He can see from Dean’s face he already knows.


	9. Chapter 9

They both stand there and stare for a few minutes before Dean touches his shoulder and gently prods with his thoughts: _Come on, Sammy._

He and Jessica are in the front of the car--Dean still isn’t driving, and somehow he knows Jess knew that too--and then he asks the sixty four million dollar question. _Jess...how did you…_

She turns and looks at him, and she’s radiant, glowing. _I held on to something._ Her voice is--amazing, it’s--

Held on to something? To what? How? 

He glances over at Dean, checking in to see how much of the conversation Dean can follow or hear. 

Dean’s eyes are wide and he’s still got a hand raised as if to block whatever it is he’s receiving. 

So the conversation isn’t private--Dean just doesn’t know what to say right now.

Sam turns back to her.

_Jess…_

_Sam, I have something to show you._

She closes her eyes and shimmers slightly for a second before a small object starts floating toward the car from the wreckage of the apartment building.

 _I kept it safe,_ she says as it whizzes in the window and lands in his lap.

Oh God, no.

It’s a tiny box, just big enough to hold a--

Dean sits back, hit with the force of something, probably the ache of dread in Sam’s chest.

\--a ring. It’s a ring. He knows it is.

 _I got tired of waiting for you,_ , she says quietly.

He laughs bitterly for a moment, a harsh bark of a laugh. _I thought if you got tired you would--_

 _I’ve never been unfaithful_ , she says, _And neither have you._

 _I didn’t mean unfaithful, I meant…_ He sighs. He glances back at Dean. Then he reaches behind him to where there’s a tiny place to stow something. Even this weekend, he had trusted the Impala with it.. _Jess, I had one too._

_I knew you did. You’re too shy, Sam… I was going to beat you to it this weekend._

_Well, I mean, now...._

Dean puts a hand out and braces him gently where he can reach, cupping the back of Sam’s neck because it’s there.

Jessica sighs. _Keep the rings. Do what you need to do with them. I can be here for a little while, we can talk, but I have another assignment._

 _You do?_ Sam asks. _Jess, I…_

 _Yes. I’m taking over for a Reaper with burnout_ , she says. _PTSD. I got my assignment right away. I said yes on the condition that I could say goodbye to you. And that...I love you, Sam._

Sam blinks back tears. Halloween weekend. The worst of his life. Yet again. _I love you too_ , he says, forceful, but his face is full of pain.

 _Dean will take care of you_ , she says, _And you’ll take care of Dean. Listen up, boys, because that’s the way it’s always been and the way it always will be, no matter who tries to tear you apart._

There’s no way to grab hold of her and hold on for longer.

 _Dean Winchester_ , she says, _You're a mess, but... Thank you for what you’ve done--coming back here. You knew from the start._

Dean doesn’t answer, but he shifts uncomfortably on the seat and clears his throat.

 _It’s the reason we’re able to have this conversation_ , she says gently.

 _Jess…_ Sam tries to say, but he’s mostly lost for words, stuck, scared.

_You two will heal. And if there’s anything I know, it’s that nothing will stop a Winchester when they have something they want._

_But Jess, I…_

_This isn’t the end, Sam. This is the beginning._

He sighs, wiping his eyes and nods. Work the case… He’ll have to work the case. All of it.

 _Take care of each other, boys. I know you can._ She kisses her finger and holds it out to Sam, gently touching him with an electromagnetic pulse--static electricity again. _I love you, Sam. I always have and I always will._

Then she’s gone from the car and they’re both left, shivering and exhausted.

They’re quiet for a while, stunned, and then Dean moves from his seat to join him in the front.

Sam doesn’t say anything, or move.

He doesn’t acknowledge Dean in any way at first.

And that’s going to have to be enough.


	10. Part II.

They sit in the silence for a while longer, the air shimmering a little with tension. He’s breathing hard and Dean has his eyes closed against whatever colors he can see in front of him. Finally he wordlessly pulls the Impala away, heading back in the direction they came--the same bad motel room, the very nearest one. 

Once they’re there they just keep sitting in the Impala, staring listlessly out at the building in front of them, spent.

Tears are silently streaming down his cheeks. He says nothing. Neither does Dean. Honestly he knows this feeling--if neither of them spoke again it would probably be too soon.

Then he remembers.

Something holding him even now, silent but bouyant, something he could have celebrated even a few hours ago.

The quiet, continual presence of _Dean_ in the back of his head. Holding him up.

It’s just there and neither of them acknowledges it.

There’s nothing to say.

The harder Sam cries, though, the closer he feels Dean edging to him, physically. His brother doesn’t quite touch him. But there they are, sharing the same air.

He won’t push anything out toward Dean, not this time.

His relationship to Jess is his own.

 _No secrets_ , he thinks for the second time this weekend. But there’s a difference between secrets and privacy, even if it’s manufactured.

He doesn’t want to tell Dean anything, much less ask him anything that could confirm things Jess said.

He’s not ready. He might not ever be ready.

Still, there’s that warm glow in the back of his head, the one he’s realizing he’s waited and waited and waited and _waited_ for.

The waiting is over and his mind feels warm and boueyed somehow.

They don’t need words. He just--leans back--into the sensation and it feels like a pressure valve releasing.

Dean clears his throat again, eyes still closed.

In his mind, all Sam hears is four words in Dean’s gruff voice, with its own gentle, musical tone inside Sam’s mind.

_I love you, Sam._

At any other time he’d turn to his brother, incredulous. And he’s angry. He is. But he knows it’s going to fade much faster than he’d like. Because now, even as he wishes Dean didn’t know--they’re the words he needs to hear the most.

Sam starts to shake then, and Dean fully gets his arms around him.

Then the floodgates completely open.


	11. Chapter 11

They work the case for a week, a week of him walking around in a haze when he’s pretending that nothing that’s happening is happening _to him_ , and that’s fine, it’s totally true, because what happened happened to Jessica.

*~*~*

The light in the back of his head, the soft and gentle pulse, the pull of _Dean_ is sometimes what keeps him upright.

And he would be angry, but he knows whatever newfound skill Dean has, it’s nothing compared to what’s happening with Jessica’s killer, something that could evade the Winchesters for twenty-two years with all guns firing at once.

*~*~*

Sometimes Dean hides in the room and sometimes Sam does. The truth is he’s still holding Dean up, too, and he remembers so many times like this before.

But they’re bleeding together. Bleeding together into one mess of feelings.

And Sam finally knows, finally, finally knows what’s in Dean’s mind, all the soft and gentle bits he only saw come out piecemeal over the years.

He can’t spend a lot of time thinking about it, but he welcomes the softness all the same, and all the little ways that he realizes--Dean did know him after all.

*~*~*

He doesn’t want to be separated from Dean now, he can’t, he can’t lose both of them so close together. And he knows if he goes with Dean he’ll be headed right into the lion’s mouth, right to his father….

Right?

Won’t they?

Maybe…

“Dean…” he says, his voice coarse from underuse, but this is important. “Do you think….we could just get the journal and…”

Dean blinks up at him, tired and a little out of it.

“You’re here, Sammy. You’re who I needed.”

Sam breaks open again and Dean doesn’t go further than the vending machine between the rooms to get them dinner and that makes Sam cry harder too.

_Dammit. I was out._

_But you’re never out_ , Dean replies, and his words are a whisper. _I’m sorry, Sammy._

Sam’s vending machine haul is a granola bar and when he sees it he can’t help but offer Dean a watery smile.

_Dammit. You asshole. Thank you._

Dean sighs and smiles that bemused smile of his back. _I know, Sammy, but I try._

They both know he does.

Sam curls up next to Dean in bed and flops as if he could lie there for three days. Maybe Dean would let him. His face is tear-streaked and his eyes have surpassed _puppy_ to utter misery.

Dean reaches out and braces him by the arm again, rubbing slow circles over his shirt.

_I gotcha, Sammy._

The anger rises and falls with each breath, and there’s more he could say to Dean, but not right now. Right now he’s too tired. He’s so tired he hopes he never opens his eyes again. He could be buried right here with Jess.

It’s his last thought before sleep takes him.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean physically pulls him out of sleep. _Come on, Sam, no. You can’t just stop. Not like that. I just got you home with me._

 _She’s gone, Dean._ he says weakly, knowing exactly what has Dean so worried.

Dean heard him.

His last thought.

The one he’d wanted to be his very last.

This is going to crush him.

_Not if I have anything to say about it. C’mon, Sammy, sit up._

Sam does as he’s asked, shivering and miserable. Dean gets the blankets tucked around him and sits him up against the headboard. 

“Got you. Sammy. Sammy. Sammy. I got you. I came home for you, and there’s nothing better I could’ve done. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I’m here. And you know where Jess is?”

“Where, Dean?” he asks through his ruined throat.

Dean points to his temple, and then Sam’s, and Sam’s heart.

“Here. With us. Jess is with us.”

A fresh wave of tears overtakes Sam. “You heard it all.”

“Felt it all, too,” Dean says softly. “I’m sorry, Sammy. If we’d stayed--together--there--maybe we could’ve… But….”

“She had another assignment. She was never mine.”

“She was, Sammy. It was real. Look at me.” Sam does. “It was real.”

“Dean, please.”

He doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Maybe the world.

Dean would give it. He knows that now.

Dean puts an arm around Sam, behind him, bracing him against the headboard.

“Thank you for coming for me, Dean. Even if it wasn’t the plan.” He doesn’t add more, the things he could say, about Dean knowing things. Dean had actually probably always known things. It was just now he couldn’t ignore it. Not anymore.

Dean offers what appears to be an offhand shrug, but Sam can feel what’s coming at him from inside. It’s a torrent. There’s so much emotion, Sam has to back off of it.

“Thank you for letting me come home to you.”

He puts a tiny bit of pressure on the warmth at the back of his mind. _Thank you._

Dean leans in and gives a chin-jerk nod, the one they both learned from their father, though ironically its military precision is more his than Dean’s.

So for the moment there isn’t anything else to say.

*~*~*

Eventually they can’t stay there, so close to the epicenter, where everything happened.

Where Jessica had taken what was already there and lodged a little piece of her inside of it to widen the channel.

Where he was surrounded by the memory of something that would never be again, even if it might change.

He and Dean leave with both rings without saying a parting word to the Moore family.

And so a door closes behind them.

And they get back on the road.

It’s a bit over-stimulating for Dean, who sits back as far as he can with eyes closed. _Still not in the background_ , he says periodically to his brother while they drive.

Sam’s having his own adjustment period while they head for Jericho.

He’s...pretty sure….he can still feel everything. Everything. Everything from Dean….and…

He pokes it gently and almost laughs, remembering the moment that Jess lodged herself along with his other grief, in a corner of his heart--and his mind.

He clears his throat and says, “She’s still here. Dean. Dean. Is she still here?”

Dean smiles a little, soft and warm and like Sam’s not sure he’s ever seen Dean smile before in his life. “Think so, Sammy. It’s one of the things that feels good, safe about this.”

“You feel her.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I mean, I have a feelin’ like… if Jess wants….”

Sam laughs. “Jess gets what she wants.”

Then they’re both laughing now. Dean wipes his eyes a little. “Sammy...you two...it’s...beautiful.”

“No secrets,” Sam murmurs, and he can almost hear her saying it along with him.

“She feels like home,” Dean says softly, awe tinting his words.

“She does.”

“Sammy, I’m sorry, if it’s… I just….”

Sam smiles a little, and it isn’t without sadness. “You came for her. If you hadn’t come…”

Dean waves a hand in his direction, “Don’t gimme that much credit, Sammy.”

“She did. And she doesn’t give credit just for nothing. She knew it was coming, she knew...something. But she was grateful to you. Hold on to that, Dean. It’s precious.”

“You love her so much.”

“Both of you are home,” Sam says, all earnest and full of love. And he feels Jess smiling softly. “Both of you get me through.”

Dean relaxes in his seat, letting the truth sink in. “You got it, Sasquatch. Now tell me how to get this all calmed down so I can drive my Baby, willya?”


	13. Chapter 13

They calm it down over time. Some of the things Sam’s taught to Dean have been instinctual to him, something he’s let flow through the bond without much thought. That was how it was in the early days, when all he could feel was a mixture of gratitude and grief. But they need to get back on the road now. 

*~*~*

They feel Jess’ presence everywhere. All the time. Even sometimes when they rev the car.

Dean doesn’t even mind. It’s almost like he’s entranced with whatever’s happened to him.

Like maybe he’s feeling secure.

It’s the luckiest guess that Sam’s got, anyway--it’s the closest he can get to naming the feelings coming from Dean when he’s not in his own private hell, being swallowed up by grief despite everything he knows.

The music of BOC starts up out of nowhere sometimes, no matter where the tape actually is, and neither of them know whether to laugh or cry. Sometimes Sam does both.

*~*~*

They don’t go running after their father. With Sam having to teach Dean what he knows, it’s enough work just to get to their next stop and maybe find the journal.

If Dad really wanted to be found, he’d be with them now, though he’d hardly be any help in what they’re really dealing with. 

There’s grief and love tumbling after each other so hard neither of them can see straight. They know their father has been through quite enough of that, and isn’t looking to help a bit with theirs.

*~*~*

Just because they aren’t following John Winchester’s hunting roadmap to the letter doesn’t mean there aren’t ghosts a-plenty. 

Sam can tell that Dean was still playing a game with himself of, "What has my life become?" even if it was in an understated way. The bond they had been slowly establishing was taking a mental toll. 

No one could see the ghosts. No one had seen Jessica's ghost. But Sam and Dean could--starting with Dean. And that was the problem.

On a core, possibly subconscious level, Dean did not want the shiny. He had not been mentally prepared his whole life by being considered _the_ freak, _the_ monster. Sam had walked him through basic mechanics of what was going on, what it meant, and maybe how to manage it.

But it was up to Dean whether he would ever truly adjust, and he had a hell of a steep learning curve.

Very suddenly, Dean Winchester could see ghosts, and many, many other people could not.

Dean wasn't really used to being the odd one out, not in this particular way.

San could feel the torrential love coming from Dean but also the pain and confusion thick enough to rival Sam’s own grief.

They are a mess.

*~*~*

They make it to Jericho slowly. Dean is definitely still adjusting. The headaches and nausea are worse in a moving car, and they make frequent stops. He was spooking himself and asking Sam a lot of questions. 

When they get to the town, Dean looks around, spooked right away. Sam knows he’s feeling the static electricity in the air that was a sure sign something was in this town.

And chances were that only the recent victims--all dead--and Sam and Dean would even be able to see the ghost.

Sam thought briefly of the irony of how Dean had been terrified of and for himself, yet had reached so naturally for Sam's own set of skills. Now it was clearer all the time that they were connected--emotionally, telepathically, mediumistically.

Sam was thinking about how to have the conversation about how they had been the only two who had seen Jessica's ghost. And what that really meant.

_Congratulations, Dean. You're a medium._

Uh, yeah. That...wasn't exactly something he was looking forward to talking over with his brother.

He would wait for now. He would see if Dean would bring it up (he wouldn't, or might not, but this case might force him to. Or...anything generally in their lives could do the same. Who knew what was coming next?

Hopefully they could get on the same page before they found their father--if they found their father. Or worse yet--other random hunters.

Sam sighed. This was a lot to deal with.

 _Work the case. Work the case._ The case was their lives. He was the case, always had been.

And now Dean was, too.


	14. Chapter 14

The thing about Dean suddenly having all of this going on is that yeah, he's part of the case. It's not just for fun, though. It means _Dean's really part of the case._

Sam tries not to think like that, like he's on a police procedural decoding his own brother, but he's not sure how else to handle it all, at least part of the time.

Dean says that everything looks hazy and full of too many colors. They take more breaks from hunting than they ever have before. He buys a sleep mask and hides in motel rooms while Sam does lots of the grunt work of hunting by himself.

That's how it starts out, anyway, and Sam figures that, well, with all the years he's had to get used to seeing weird stuff or just _being_ the weird one, it's probably all the learning curve.

They keep in touch telepathically and if Sam can't reach Dean for some reason sometimes he reaches into that weird spot Jess carved out for herself, the ET Phone Home style Reaper Radio.

 _Love you, babe_ , is the most he gets out of it for a while. Jess is probably busy learning the ropes. Anyway, Sam's only been in this telepathic loop with the two of them for a few weeks now, and they probably all have to spend time getting used to it.

He brings a burger to Dean at the motel room and finds him peacefully asleep for the moment. He stashes the food on Dean's end table and instinctively lays down beside him. He won't wake the poor guy. He doesn't want to be the bearer of a migraine. Calories, yes, Light sensitivity headache, no.

At some point during his nap, Dean comes to an awareness that Sam is there and rolls over and wraps him up in a tight hug. It’s just instinct. They both know that. They both remember so many times like this that came before. But it settles both of them, a feeling that reverberates through their connection.

Sam checks the burger and notes it’s going to get cold so he chances waking Dean up. “Hey. I brought you some dinner.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Dean says, half awake. “This is officially bullshit. I didn’t want the shiny because _it sucks_.”

Sam smiles a little bemusedly. “Hey. Good thing I did a test run, right? Got some of the bugs out?”

“Huh? Bugs?”

“You know a test run, right?”

Dean winces preemptively and takes off his sleep mask. “I’m just eating this and going back to sleep.”

“Okay, dude.”

Sam watches Dean eat and thinks. “Hey, Dean, I have an idea.”

“You do?”

“What if we asked for help?”


	15. Chapter 15

“From who?”

Sam considers how to mention this part of what he’s thinking.

Then he sort of accidentally remembers he doesn’t have to say it out loud.

“Jess?” Dean asks.

“I mean, she’s...we have the...thing. We could,” Sam says. He’s feeling a little embarrassed, a little raw.

“It’s just, I mean, maybe, Sam, but it’s a little soon.”

Sam nods. “Okay.” He sighs. “I just miss her. Like…” 

“I know, Sammy.”

And for once when Dean says he knows what Sam’s thinking….it’s likely he does.

“So how do we turn it down?” Sam asks,

“Ya got me, college boy.”

“Jesus, Dean, I’m sorry it’s like this.”

“Not your fault,” Dean says, but Sam knows, he’d rather not have to say that, putting his energy there, he just--

“I just want it over. Or if not over, calmer.”

“Maybe we can do it together. Or maybe we do need Jess, Dean, maybe that’s why she...left footprints or whatever.”

“Yeah. Uh. Maybe. Sammy, I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Pfff. What’s a little pain after the last few weeks?” he asks.

It’s getting harder and harder to hide things from Dean, though, and whatever reverberates through Sam….

“Sorry, Dean, I….”

Dean’s smile is pained. “I just didn’t know, you know, Sammy? There were a lot of things I didn’t know. About how it worked. About...everything.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s okay.”

They sit quietly for a while again, and then Sam asks, “Can I try something?”

“Sure, Sammy. I’ll try anything at this point. Partial lobotomy? Check.”

“Let’s not go that far. Let’s just...see if I can….”

And with that, Sam goes quiet, and tries his theory. 

He grabs onto the bond, tries to isolate Dean’s “shiny” and balance it.

If he has to take some from his brother then so be it. He’s known bits and pieces of this his whole life.

And he’ll never be afraid of seeing ghosts again.

*~*~*

Dean inhales sharply. “Sammy. You did it.”

His heart is thrumming in time with Dean’s thoughts, with his colors. He takes some of them inside himself and balances the line.

“It was always supposed to be about two way communication,” he says.

“Three,” Dean says. Then he pauses and concern fills him, flooding out a little bit. “You still feel her, right?”

“Yes,” Sam says softly. He’s slightly stunned.

“We’ll keep it to a dull roar,” he says in the same quiet voice.

“I’ll figure it out, Sam. I promise you. This is my thing. It’s not your responsibility to save me all the time. I just...didn’t know. And I wanted you home.”

“Dean, you don’t have to explain. I remember the beginning. And….” _I wanted to be home too._ He does send that down the line, with emotion and force.

When he sends the thought, he feels Dean catch it, and the line fills with relief and joy. 

As for Sam, his heart fills to bursting. For just one moment the pain recedes and he knows why he’s here, still, here with Dean. 

They can take on the world.


	16. Epilogue-Ish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the Department of the Writing Faerie Still Sucks at Pacing
> 
> ...But Hopes You Like It....
> 
> Other things happen in this 'verse... and they're important and they make it a 'verse, but I really, really wanted to speed up and give this to my friends. I'll write the Much Later In Canon things/feels later on.
> 
> Happy Indiginous People's Day and for those of us to whom the tradition is apropos...happy Samhain (not Sam Hain grr Kripke), I wrote us ghost-y Reaper fic.

They don’t actually have to worry about finding hunts. Especially now, the hunts find them. There are ghosts and plenty of other nasties _everywhere_. It’s actually a little bit overwhelming. If Dean hadn’t experienced it all _way_ too up close and personal for a number of weeks, he probably would think less of them both driving at a snail’s pace in his Baby while they could be cruising down the open road.

But they’ve got a laser light show and a three person quantum whatever to get used to, and while that sounds cool on paper it’s _really_ , _**really**_ strange “in person,” or in other words to actually deal with in reality.

Plus they can’t tell if Jess--well, where the hell is Jess? They don’t know. She’s in their little mind meld, yeah, and has maybe permanently messed with the wiring of the car. And okay. Dean could be mad about that too. But both he and Sam are having trouble staying mad these days. 

For one thing, they have to sort of tamp it down to not blow the other person’s circuits. And for another, they usually can figure out why the other person--people--person did the thing they did in the first place, and all the rotten feelings that came with it.

It’s a little distracting. All of it is. So _saving people, hunting things_ becomes a little bit more like, _avoid_ and _they’re everywhere jesus fuck okay christ what the hell_ and if there’s one person neither of them can really have patience for it’s the father who’s playing hide and seek with them.

Still, the whole “we live in a supernatural universe” thing is way bigger than they ever imagined, and they’ve already seen their fair share of shit.

It’s everywhere, it’s all in the fabric of things, the very cosmos of where they live. And they can see it all. Hear it all. And know lots of it.

Maybe that’s because of Jess being a really smart, cosmically aware being. But maybe it was just always this way.

They drive down a road through a corn field and everything is gold and pink and purple and blue and Sam goes all the way there, slaps his knee and looks at Dean and says, “I want to believe,” and Dean says, “Screw you, Sasquatch, I have a headache,” and then they laugh at how absurd absolutely everything is.

“Imagine if Dad saw all this all the time,” Sam says.

“He’d’ve blown his brains out.”

“Yeah. Probably. It’s sort of pretty, though. I kind of love it,” Sam says, quietly. “It sort of makes the world make sense.”

“Okay, Professor,” Dean says. But he’s only playing grumpy, Sam can tell.

*~*~*

So driving the car is actually a challenge, and also they’re keenly aware they’re not following the John Winchester Action Plan.

He still sends coordinates.

Sam is proud of Dean when he ignores them.

Like, really proud of Dean.

“You wanna make that phone a burner?” Sam asks, smiling a little because he already knows the answer.

*~*~*

A couple of days later Dean floats the idea: “You know what’s weird, is not needing him. His approval. His crap. Not needing his crap.”

“You feel better,” Sam says softly. He’s smiling again and he thinks maybe he just won’t stop. That feels weird too, like his face is stretching in the wrong direction and maybe he’s off-base, but it’s amazing to feel the weight falling off of Dean in waves.

“Yeah,” Dean says.

And that’s all. That’s all that ever needs to be said.

*~*~*

And then the Impala hits a tree (right on schedule).

Sam is driving. Big, huge, major defensive driver Sam sees a little bit too much light out of the corner of his eye and slams the car in the wrong direction and hits a tree.

*~*~*

And the fates or whoever is in charge of the Winchesters, whoever rearranged behind the wallpaper to give them their own individual Reaper...is laughing.

*~*~*

Dean is unconscious for part of it, but when he wakes up there’s hell to pay. There’s no ouija board or phoning home, there’s just blind rage and everything he knows about every evil thing, and oh, the mind whammy thing.

*~*~*

When Jessica arrives, Dean is watching for her. And if he cared enough to wonder he might think a little bit that maybe this, too, is being cosmically arranged. But even when he sees the slightly flickery version of Sam join Jess he doesn’t think like that.

He’s just angry, and both of them know it.

 _It’s not his time, Dean_ , Jessica says gently, trying to get the one full of rage to stand down before she has a much calmer conversation with her Sam.

_Well, what is it, then? You just got bored? Lonely? Sad? You think you can just--just--do this?_

_Sam controls his own life, Dean. When it counts. Times like this. You know he’s his own person._

And he sighs. Yeah. Yeah, Sam is, weird mind meld or no.

 _Jessica_ , he says, and everything’s a little bit wobbly. _I didn’t mean--it’s not your fault_.

Jess smiles, soft and sad. _It’s not my fault, you’re right, but I’m sorry, Dean, all the same. Look. I’ve got this. Let me just borrow your brother here a second._

Even in his half-alive state, Sam’s all emotional jagged edges and pain. They all know that.

He’s so close.

But he knows that unless it’s his time--really his time--there’s no way a personally-assigned Reaper--there’s no way that Jess is gonna let him come to her a moment ahead of schedule.

He sighs. He nods at her without ever bothering to try to touch her or kiss her.

He already knows everything she’ll say and do. So he just catches the kiss she puts on her finger for him, just like last time.

Sam hates the fall.

So very much.

*~*~*

Sam’s recovery is slow. Painstaking. But it’s not as slow as it would be without the mind meld, the way of sharing between the three of them. Even Jess can send them energy and she does.

The doctors are a bit stunned that Sam can end up up and walking around after a thing like that but a Winchester never kicks it unless it’s strategically imperative to some creature and even then-- _well_.

They do it all--almost dying, learning more of the ropes of being tied to a Reaper, and recovering together, without hearing from John Winchester.

Actually, it’s almost like they’re the adults now.

They have passed go and collected some _really weird circumstances_.

*~*~*

“I guess she’s always out there,” Sam says. They’re lying on top of the Impala looking up at the stars in another corn field.

“And in here,” Dean says, thumping once on his chest.

“Think you can hack it?” Sam asks.

Dean grins. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“‘Dear Dean Winchester’s Parents,’” Sam starts narrating around his own smile, “‘Dean has recently begun to learn to share.’”

“Shaddup, Sammy.”

Sam tugs his flannel closer around himself. “Happy fall, Dean. We made it through another one.”

“Barely,” Dean says dryly.

“Yeah, well, we did. One at a time, right?”

“Sure, Sam.”

“I’m glad I made it home.”

The bond floods with Just. So. Much.

“Me too.”

*~*~*

While Dean sleeps in the back of the car in the self-same corn field, Sam digs the two little ring boxes out of the place in the back of the Impala, where they've always been safe. He knows which one he bought. And in the quiet of the night he slips the one that was meant for him on his finger.

**Author's Note:**

> Second part of the 'verse coming soon, I hope.


End file.
